


The Once and Future King

by SandraMorningstar



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fix-It, Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 12:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15662919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandraMorningstar/pseuds/SandraMorningstar
Summary: Arthur Pendragon is the Once and Future King. That was what Kilgarrah, the dragon had said. So Merlin waited, through the ages, for his king, the love of his life, to return.





	The Once and Future King

**Author's Note:**

> I am getting the feeling once you watched Merlin, you will never truly get over it. Or at least I won't. It has been years since I watched it, yet I still have a relapse once in a while. 
> 
> This fic is the result of one such relapse and an overdose of sad Merthur fan vids. I suddenly felt the need to fix the ending because it is too sad, even for someone like me who likes to put their faves through hell. 
> 
> So, that's what this is: my attempt to make things hurt a little less. :)

* * *

  
I will tell you something else, King,  
Which may surprise you.  
It will not happen for hundreds of years,  
But both of us are to come back

\- T.H. White, The Once and Future King -

* * *

 

Merlin was waiting.

For months, then years that turned into decades which became centuries.

At first, despite the pain of losing Arthur, there were a few years where life slowly returned to something resembling normality. He spent his days advising Gwen and even tagged along once in a while when the knights went on some quest.

Until, one by one, they grew old and died. He buried them and enchanted every grave to make sure none would disturb his friends’ eternal rest. When the last grave was dug and the crowd of mourning funeral guests dispersed, Merlin stayed behind. He waited until he was sure to be truly alone, then took one final look at Camelot before he turned and walked away. He felt old that day, despite the fact that time had passed him by without robbing him of his youthful appearance. But nonetheless, a lifetime lay behind him now with all the joys and pains that entailed.

The next few centuries, Merlin spent in hiding. He lived as a hermit in an abandoned shack in the woods and honed his magic. He’d taken Gaius’ books with him when he left. The old man had bequeathed them to him in his will. Over time, he became the sorcerer Gaius and Kilgarrah had always seen in him: powerful, in control and, he liked to think, wise. He tried not to dwell on the question, if he could have prevented Arthur’s fate, had he reached this level of mastery in his youth.

When more and more people in strange dress started to stumble across his cabin, he enchanted it and a part of the surrounding forest, to make them stay away. Merlin knew it was a temporary solution and he had to rejoin the world eventually, if only because Arthur would have wanted him to, but he didn’t feel ready yet.

He began to make preparations, though. He returned his attention to the world and the changing times and caught up with the centuries of history he had missed.

Shortly after Merlin ended his self-imposed exile, Albion – now called Britain – declared war on Germany. The conflict would come to be known as World War I and would bring horrors beyond not only Merlin’s imagination. He heard of soldiers choking on mustard gas and dying of disease and hunger in muddy trenches.

There was a short period of respite, followed by more fighting. World War II. He witnessed fire – bombs – raining from the sky, tearing down cities and burying their inhabitants under the charred rubble of their homes. The hospitals were always filled above capacity. Merlin tried to help where he could but it was never enough.

Things got a little quieter after that. There were still conflicts but overall the world seemed tired of fighting. The people certainly were, so they strived for peace. Everyone had lost enough that revenge no longer seemed sweet. Inventions were made and progress found fertile ground once more. Time seemed to speed up with how quickly things were evolving.

Again, Merlin felt old and by now he looked the part as well. He had little hope to see Arthur return in this time of prosperity, so after long deliberation, he decided to leave Britain. He travelled the world and learned about cultures and hadn’t even known existed in parts of the world unknown to even the best of Camelot’s cartographers. Strangely enough, he found he had a knack for technology. Computers, Radios, Cars – their makeup and operation came easy to him. Languages, on the other hand, were not his forte but he could always help himself out with some magic.

He only returned to Britain at the start of the twenty-first century. He found a job at a library in a small village a two-hour drive from London and, with the money he’d saved over the years, bought himself a small cottage there. In his free time, he helped out as a history teacher at the local primary school. Children hadn’t changed much, though how they spend their days had quite a lot. They were still curious and he always managed to make them interested in what he told them. Sometimes he spotted some latent talent for sorcery in one of his pupils but neither the children nor their parents seemed aware of it, so he never broached the subject with either of them. Magic was a dying art. It had been a long time since he’d met another practitioner.

Merlin had built a life for himself and he enjoyed it, but the old wound the loss of Arthur had caused was still there. And as the years passed and crisis after crisis was averted or passed without any sign of The Once and Future King living became a chore. More often than not, Merlin felt weary these days. Tired. A deep-rooted sadness had taken hold of him.

It took him a while to figure it out. Then, one evening, it suddenly clicked: He had lost hope. Arthur wasn’t coming back. Not after all this time. Was there even anything to come back to? Technically, Albion didn’t exist anymore. Merlin sighed deeply and buried his face in his hands. After he had blinked away the tears, he looked out of the window up into the starry night sky.

“I miss you”, he said quietly and with a sad smile. “And I’m tired of waiting.” Now the tears came after all. “I think … I think it’s time I come to you. I don’t know how yet of if it will even work but I’d take a snowball’s chance in hell at this point, if it means seeing you again. Tomorrow I get my things in order and hit the books. See you soon, old friend.”

With newfound resolve, Merlin dried his tears and went to bed. While he waited to fall asleep he made a list what he’d have to take care of. He didn’t much care what happened to the house or his belongings. The only exception were Gaius’ books which he still cherished. He had copied each and every one of them multiple times and hidden them all over the world, enchanted so whoever was in need of them would find them. But the originals he had kept throughout his life and even now giving them away seemed unthinkable. Maybe he could gift them to a museum. At least there they would be in good hands. His money he would leave to the school and the library. Both could need the support.

 

_Merlin dreamed._

_He knew he was dreaming because he was looking at Arthur. He was wearing his armour, eyes closed peacefully, like he was merely asleep._

_Merlin remembered how gaunt and pale he’d been the last time he’d seen him like this. Now, his friend looked healthy, restored to his former glory._

_Merlin screamed his name, pleaded for him to wake up like he had that fateful day. His words fell on deaf ears. Still, he continued until his voice was hoarse and he broke down crying._

 

A clap of thunder startled Merlin awake. The dream-woven illusions still clung to him and ripped open old wounds. He felt like he had lost Arthur all over again. Grief overcame him. He broke down crying and in his sadness and mourning he felt strangely young again.

“I can’t do this anymore”, he sobbed. “I’m sorry.”

He got to his feet and walked downstairs, not bothering to put on his shoes or a coat. He wouldn’t need them. On his way outside he walked past the mirror in the hallway, his dark hair messy from sleep.

He paused.

Dark hair, he thought, struck by the realisation. He hadn’t had dark hair in ages! Slowly, as if fearful he would find it had just been a trick of the mind, he turned towards the mirror. The face of a young boy looked back at him. A boy on whose shoulders the destiny of a great kingdom once rested. His face. As young as the day he had lost Arthur.

Another thunderclap from outside.

A sudden certainty rose in Merlin or maybe a mad hope. This could only mean one thing: Arthur had returned! His heart was racing at the mere thought. He had to make sure!

 

***

 

The lake of Avalon lay silent when Merlin arrived. He had taken the time to put on shoes and a jacket after all but was still wearing his old-man-pyjamas underneath. Not that he cared right now. His eyes were frantically searching the lake’s shoreline. The water surface broke and a blond head appeared. Merlin gasped. His knees grew weak but he forced them to move, sprinting towards Arthur who was stumbling onto the shore, shivering but otherwise unharmed.

“Merlin”, Arthur said and it sounded like a sigh of relief.

“Arthur”, Merlin replied, teary-eyed, and pulled him into a long, deep hug.

For the longest time they simply stood like this, arms wrapped tightly around each other, breathing, crying until the reality that they were finally reunited sank in.

“I missed you”, Merlin said, wiping away tears that refused to stop. He laughed with stress and relief.

“I missed you too”, Artur said with a sad smile. “Sorry I made you wait so long.”

“It’s– wait. Do you– How much do you remember?”, Merlin stammered.

“Everything, for the most part. Some of the details are blurry. I do not know much of my time in Avalon either. But I know I hated knowing you were waiting, yet I wasn’t allowed to see you. There was – is – still so much I want to tell you. And then, recently, I grew afraid you wouldn’t be there when it was deemed my time had come. So, I bargained with the Mistresses of Avalon.”

“And they let you go?”, Merlin said, perplexed.

“I think I made a compelling argument. I can’t quite remember.” He smiled apologetically and looked so young and beautiful doing it that Merlin fell in love all over again.

“It’s alright”, he assured him, still choked up. “You’re here. Everything else can wait.”

“Not everything”, Arthur objected decidedly. “There is one thing I have to do before we leave.”

“Okay”, Merlin said quietly, uncertain, readying himself for whatever was about to happen.

Arthur laughed quietly and pulled him even closer, hands running through his hair. He closed his eyes and puckered his lips. Only then did Merlin catch on and followed suit. The kiss was short and sweet but after waiting lifetimes for it, it was the best kiss he could imagine.

“Thank you”, Arthur whispered as he broke their intimate contact. “You devoted your life to me even though it meant risking yours. A million lifetimes of gratitude can’t weigh up the service you have done me. But … I love you, Merlin. I had enough time in Avalon to be absolutely certain of this and I know you loved me as well, because truly why else would anyone do what you have done, so–”

“I still love you”, Merlin interrupted Arthur whose speech had dissolved into nervous rambling. “Couldn’t stop if I tried." He smiled, warmly yet with a sort of weary sadness. "Let’s go home. We can have all the awkward conversations you want tomorrow.” Merlin thought of his big, comfy double bed and how, for once, the place beside him wouldn’t be empty. He phantasized how it would be to wake up next to Arthur.

“Home”, Arthur said, voice painfully hopeful. “Is Camelot still standing?”

Merlin froze. “No”, he finally managed to get out. “I’m sorry.”

“What about the knights? And Gwen?” Arthur’s face fell before he even heard Merlin's reply.

“All long dead and buried. I’m sorry.” Merlin hung his head.

“How long?”, Arthur asked softly.

At first, Merlin thought about not answering but Arthur deserved to know. “For centuries now. It’s the year 2018.”

Arthur took Merlin’s hand and laced their fingers together. “Then you were lonely for a long time.”

“I’m not anymore”, Merlin said. “That’s all that matters right now.” A heavy burden seemed to be lifted from his shoulders. He felt truly young and carefree once again.

He was done waiting.


End file.
